


Fault Lines

by theskywasblue



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you cannot go back, then go forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fault Lines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sharpeslass](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sharpeslass).



It happens for the first time before he is even himself.

Or rather, it happens before Gojyo has a name by which to call him, for which Gonou thinks he is not at fault – Gojyo simply never asked. Although it is possible to lie by omission.

They are sharing the bed, because Gojyo is tired of sleeping on the thin mat on the floor and Gonou likes the sensation of a warm body next to his own, reminding him to breathe. This night, Gonou’s hand touches Gojyo’s hip – unintentionally at first because the bed is small and there’s very little room in which to arrange one’s limbs – and then, as if guided by a will of its own, with more purpose, along the waistband of his boxers, then beneath the fabric, through coarse hair and over hot flesh.

Gojyo shudders against him, makes a tiny sound of surprise and hardens rapidly as Gonou tugs back his foreskin, rolls his thumb over the damp flesh underneath. And why is he doing this again? He can’t recall honestly, he can only think that he wants to touch, wants to feel the nuances and responses of a living body. He wiggles his nose through the hair that covers the back of Gojyo’s neck and inhales deeply against the skin there, letting the scent of cigarettes, sweat and hard water wash over him, burrow into his brain, forming a memory pattern. He tastes the skin, just a little as he palms the weight of Gojyo’s balls and presses against him. He manages to push his pants down with his free hand, just enough to free his aching arousal, and Gojyo’s boxers too, though not with any real intent save to rub himself against real, warm skin as he squeezes and strokes Gojyo.

He spends himself against the backs of Gojyo’s thighs. Gojyo’s release is hot and slick on his fingers, much the same as blood, and they never speak about it afterwards.

* * *

The second time it happens, Gojyo knows his name. Or at least the name that he’s meant to call himself now.

“You taste like apples,” he murmurs against Hakkai’s mouth, pressing him against the wall with more urgency than Hakkai really expected. He too tastes of apples and of cigarettes, of the beer he drank at lunch, and of something Hakkai can only articulate as _need_, coppery and sweet.

Gojyo never says _“I missed you,”_ or asks why he left, why there were no letters, no word at all for months; but Hakkai can feel it all underneath the surface of his skin. Their connection was immediate, even back on that rainy night – and dangerous, Hakkai thinks. He will have to do _something_ to lessen the pull of it, because the last time he felt so drawn to another living creature...

Well, later, perhaps. At that moment Gojyo’s mouth was far too gentle and eager, and the bristles of his newly shortened hair were surprisingly soft under Hakkai’s palms. Gojyo presses against him like he’s trying to force their bodies into one skin. The wall digs almost painfully into Hakkai’s shoulder-blades, but that’s really only fair. Gojyo rhucks his shirt up, and the touch of rough, warm fingertips against Hakkai's stomach is almost _too_ intrusive; but then they're moving away, tugging at his belt, his zipper, freeing Hakkai from his underwear.

"Hakkai, Hakkai..." Gojyo rolls the name around his tongue, smoothing out the rough edges of it, "I wanna suck your dick, okay?"

That's terribly unsanitary, Hakkai thinks, but Gojyo doesn't really wait for confirmation as such. Gojyo is going to swallow him, Hakkai realizes - not just his erection, not just his semen - but very much the whole of him. It wouldn't be so bad, really, to slip down the welcoming smoothness of Gojyo's throat and curl warm in the deep part of his stomach, safe and sheltered like a...

Gojyo's tongue banishes the thought before it can fully take hold of Hakkai's mind, and thank God for that. Hakkai looks down for as long as he can, watches himself bob against Gojyo's lower lip, smearing it with fluid, then vanish into Gojyo's warm, velvety mouth. There's a definite thrill to the slight drag of Gojyo's teeth along his shaft.

Finally, Hakkai lets his head fall back against the wall, heedless of the thump it makes, and moans, the sound rising up from somewhere far lower than his lungs.

Later never really arrives.

* * *

Things, however, continue in much the same way for a very long time. Hakkai assuages much of his guilt by making sure the house is clean and Gojyo has proper meals to eat.

He knows, objectively, that he is taking advantage of Gojyo in many ways. Gojyo is, after all, far too generous for his own good - as much of a tough guy exterior as he tries to put on. It isn't until the incident with Banri that Hakkai realizes just how willing Gojyo is to let people walk all over him. The knowledge gnaws at Hakkai in his quiet moments - joining the many shadows that lurk in his subconscious.

And this is finally enough to give Hakkai the motivation to start drawing lines in the metaphorical sand.

* * *

They don't often take the television out. Most nights it sits on a storage shelf in the small linen closet gathering dust because they can only obtain 3 fuzzy channels without a cable hook-up.

Hakkai prefers to read in the evenings, but on this night Gojyo is determined to watch some film - an object of much nostalgia Hakkai gathers, as he watched it with his brother of whom he rarely speaks - some adventure piece.

"You'll like it," he tells Hakkai with warm confidence in his voice, "the hero's a University professor or something like that."

Unfortunately it appears that Gojyo's is mistaken. Instead the film on offering is something leaning much more towards the genre of romance than adventure - though there is some excitement: an exchange or two of gunfire, the heroine and her beau running from the designated bad guys - Gojyo fidgets uncomfortably for a while, grumbles a little to himself and finally settles in to watch; likely because it would be too much trouble to simply put the television away without having watched anything.

Hakkai, for his part, enjoys the movie a great deal, despite the poor reception. He becomes a little lost in it, in truth, and doesn't notice when Gojyo leans against him slightly, or when Gojyo's hand settles on his thigh. As the credits roll, Gojyo presses warm lips against the side of Hakkai's neck and nuzzles his ear.

"Ah..." Hakkai shivers, feels his body respond automatically to the warm familiarity of the touch, resisting his commands to pull away, "Gojyo I don't think..."

"Mmm - think what?" Gojyo murmurs against his skin, and it tickles, makes Hakkai want to laugh. For all his certainty that he is using Gojyo unfairly, it always feels so _good_ to be touched by him; there is not just the physical pleasure of it, but Gojyo makes Hakkai smile often with the pressure of his fingers against Hakkai's skin, makes him want to laugh and sometimes to cry. Gojyo hides nothing from him, denies him nothing, and Hakkai cannot help but be genuine in response to Gojyo's genuineness.

"What's to think about?"

Far too many things, really. Though it would be so terribly easy to allow himself to get lost in Gojyo's smoke-roughened voice, to succumb to the gentle touches, Hakkai forces himself to resist.

"This isn't right Gojyo."

At that, Gojyo pulls back. Hakkai doesn't want to look at him and see the pain in his eyes at the rejection, but he forces himself to look.

"Whaddya mean Hakkai?"

"I'm sorry but..." _It’s not you it’s me_? How awfully trite. “Excuse me Gojyo.”

It isn’t until he steps into the bathroom and clicks the lock into place that he realizes he is being rather alarmingly immature. He turns on the shower to cover the sound of his escape and realizes belatedly that this is unintentionally cruel. He doesn’t want Gojyo to get the wrong idea after all. There is probably not a right idea to get, really – but there are certainly some that are more wrong than others.

Water off then.

Hakkai sits on the toilet seat, listening to the sound of Gojyo moving around the house, putting the television away, his empty beer bottle – other noises Hakkai cannot identify. Finally, there is a soft knock at the door.

“Hakkai man – you done in there? I need to take a leak.”

Of course. How rude of him, Hakkai laments, to deprive Gojyo of the necessary facilities. Perhaps he should go for a walk instead, put as much distance as possible between him and Gojyo until...

Until what? Until Gojyo falls asleep and he can pack a suitcase? Past experience has proven that he is incapable of such wholesale abandonment. But perhaps at least his head will clear in the night air.

“I’m sorry Gojyo I...” he opens the door and Gojyo is right _there_ immediately in his personal space. Hakkai can feel the heat of his body, smell his skin as he leans against the doorframe.

“You okay Hakkai?”

That shouldn’t be the question he asks, but that is essentially Gojyo.

“Yes,” he swallows, resists the urge to tip his head just enough that the strands of Gojyo’s hair will brush against his cheek the way they do sometimes in the dark of night when he is half-asleep or when Gojyo moves above him, exploring unhurried pleasure.

“Uh-huh,” a puff of air against Hakkai’s temple, “Do you wanna give me the real answer now?”

Gojyo’s eyes no longer admonish him, Hakkai thinks, but they are still capable of looking right through him, of stripping him bare of all pretention. Perhaps it is because Gojyo _never_ hides – even when he really should for his own emotional and physical safety – that he can see so easily when others are hiding around him.

“I don’t want to trouble you Gojyo,” Hakkai answers finally, “I don’t want you to put yourself out...”

_Put out_, what a horribly inopportune choice of words. The Freudian slip leaves Hakkai floundering for a moment.

“Hakkai,” Gojyo actually laughs a little, shaking his head, “sometimes you really need to just stop thinking, you know?”

Oh no. That would be a very bad idea indeed. If Hakkai stops thinking about it, he knows he will become comfortable. He may even become happy – that’s assuming he isn’t already, and he continually has to tell himself that he isn’t, which is surely a bad sign – and then what would happen?

“I like it this way,” Gojyo tells him; and then for the briefest instant there is hesitation, uncertainty in Gojyo’s eyes, “if you do.”

That is the moment Hakkai realizes he cannot go back, even if he wanted to - and really, he doesn't. It would just mean more guilt and more sadness, and he shouldn't honestly have time to feel guilty about as many things as he does already. If he tries hard enough this could be one thing capable of being shuffled aside and forgotten.

He reaches up and laces his fingers at the back of Gojyo's neck, "I like it a great deal Gojyo - though perhaps a little too much."

Gojyo smiles crookedly, "I could try and make sure you enjoy it a little less?"

A bubble of emotion - joy, relief and impossible affection - presses against Hakkai's chest and climbs out his throat, "No Gojyo, that's really quite alright."

Gojyo's mouth is warm and golden-tasting, like the beer; bitter nicotine is actually a pleasant counter-point. Gojyo's tongue moves with Hakkai's rather than against it, coaxes rather than crowds, making it easy for Hakkai to allow the complete exploration of his mouth, awakening a full body response. If there is one act of intimacy Gojyo truly excels at, it is kissing.

They find their way back into the bathroom. Gojyo cranks on the hot water tap to let the shower warm - it always seems to take ages, a strain on the home's ancient water heater - and undresses them both. When they step under the spray it's still quite a bit cooler than Hakkai would like, but the heat of Gojyo's body more than compensates. Gojyo pushes Hakkai's hair back from his face and kisses above and below each of his eyes in turn, and almost as if he's purposely ignoring the twin erections rubbing together between their bodies, lathers his hands with soap from the caddy and begins rubbing Hakkai's shoulders and chest.

Hakkai would protest, but the attention feels too good. Gojyo works down his body all the way to the soles of his feet, giving his erection only a fleeting but sensuous lick. When he turns Hakkai around and begins the procedure again from the back Hakkai feels tension he didn't entirely realize he was carrying begin to seep out through his skin. It allows the tightness and urgency in his groin to ease slightly, the pleasure to run out through his body as smooth as cream. He touches himself experimentally and Gojyo hums against the back of his shoulder.

“Looks good Hakkai – you like the way that feels?”

He does; but as Gojyo rubs against his back, erection slipping into the cleft of his ass, Hakkai thinks of something more. Something he’s not sure how to ask for without being entirely too coarse. He rocks back slightly, manages, “Gojyo...”

“Yeah,” Gojyo mouths his neck – tongue, lips, teeth, “I know. Just promise me this isn’t some kind of penance thing. I want to hear you say it.”

Hakkai reaches back, manages to get his arm around Gojyo’s neck and hold him there so they can kiss over his shoulder, “This is not some kind of penance thing Gojyo.”

A soapy hand slides over Hakkai’s hip, Gojyo mumbles, “Better fucking not be,” against his lips, and then his fingertips are bumping Hakkai’s entrance, eagerly but with caution. Hakkai presses a palm against the shower wall, the other hand reaching back to stroke Gojyo’s thigh, and focuses on the pale crescent moons above his cuticles as the touch becomes pressure and the pressure in turn becomes something he doesn’t have a frame of reference for. His head swims as he feels Gojyo’s finger move through his insides – the sensation is strange, but good, and with two fingers it gets even better. Buy the time the smooth, round end of Gojyo’s erection presses at him Hakkai is already quite lost.

Gojyo kisses the back of his neck, eases in so slow it makes Hakkai want to cry out, but he chokes the sound back for fear that it will make Gojyo stop. Instead he hardly breathes until Gojyo is pressed in all the way and throbbing, watching the sparks of light behind his eyelids. Steady movement after that makes coherent thought impossible; it feels like his insides are unravelling. Surely Gojyo will put them back in order; he did once before after all.

“Oh Gojyo - _yes_...”

He could come like this, walking a razor-wire of pleasure and pain as Gojyo’s thrusts assault his prostate. He rocks his hips back in counterpoint to Gojyo’s movement, almost hypnotized by the cacophony of falling water and Gojyo’s voice murmuring nonsense and obscenities against the back of his neck. When his orgasm hits it is sudden and hard, sending pleasure straight to the back of his brain, dizzying, like too much wine. For a moment, his vision is completely white and there is no air in his lungs.

When he comes back to himself his forehead is pressed against the cool shower tile and Gojyo is plastered against his back, covering his shoulders with slippery, open-mouthed kisses and asking questions Hakkai can’t even understand, let along be expected to answer.

The shower is cooling. They are both in something of a daze as they rinse their bodies and stumble out. Gojyo slumps against the damp wall pulling Hakkai to him. As they slip to the floor, locked in a languid kiss, Hakkai thinks that they won’t talk again about this either, but that’s really quite alright.

-End-


End file.
